Notes on Love
by JustRememberMe
Summary: Ron and Hermione get into a very intense fight involving chess, charm notes, and insuffrable prats.
1. Charm Notes

"Hermione?" Ron asked timidly.

Ron was sitting across from Hermione in the busy Gryffindor common room. He had been staring absently at the numerous pages of charm notes Hermione had laid out for far too long in his opinion. He liked spending time with her; but he was really tired of studying. At the moment Hermione was in the middle of a particularly in-depth explanation of how to execute different charm to heal miner blisters and cuts. She seemed to be too far into her rambling lesson to hear him.

Quite a bit louder Ron repeated, "Hermione?"

She looked rather annoyed to be interrupted. "Yes, what?" she replied sharply. Ron looked up at her shyly, he now felt bad for interrupting her, she looked so pretty with her hair falling in soft curls in front of her clear, clever eyes.

"Err, I was wondering if we could study a little later, I kind of told Seamus I'd play some chess with him."

"But Ron! There's only three days until the test, and you haven't even studied!"

"What were we doing right then?"

"You seriously can't expect to call ten minutes of me explaining the mechanics of about three spells to be studying!" Hermione sounded thoroughly annoyed now.

"Come on Hermione, that HAD to be at least twenty minutes, and anyway there's plenty of time!" Now Ron was mad, 'I only want to play a little chess for Merlin's sake!' he thought to himself, 'Where does she get off ordering me to be a slave to books, that's her job, isn't it!' He knew he didn't mean what he had just thought but still, she should lighten up!

Hermione stood up abruptly, knocking some of the notes off the table. She was furious now. 'What the hell is he playing at? She thought angrily. Chess? How dare he! He was the one who asked for her help!'

"You always say that and you know what happens don't you?

She didn't give him a chance to answer, and blazed on, her voice was quite loud and screechy now.

"I end up having to stay up with you till three in the morning to cram the information into your head, or to help you write a paper, or finish your homework, Or…"

Ron cut her off. "That's not fair! I do not do that all the time, and is it such a torture to help me?" His cheeks were so red now that it looked he was wearing face paint.

"You know I don't mean it that way!" Hermione retaliated. 'How dare he, who's the one who is always there for him when he needs help? Me! Not Harry, not Dean, not bloody Seamus with his bloody chess!'

"Do you know what Ron? If you are daft enough not to appreciate my help then you can just deal without me then, I know I can deal without you, you insufferable prat!" 'If he doesn't want to spend time with me then I don't want to spend time with him!' She knew that thought was a lie, she would always want to spend time with him, but she was too upset at his words to care.

She had viciously screamed the last bit and now every single person in the common room was alerted to their blazing row. Seamus who had been watching sheepishly for a while just couldn't take it anymore. Had Hermione actually just called Ron a prat for all the common room to hear?

"Oi Ron, it's okay really, we can play tomorrow or something." But Seamus' words fell on deaf ears.

Ron was bellowing at Hermione now, "That's fine, it's not like I need some prissy, stuck-up, know-it-all, bitch anyway!"

The second the words came out of his mouth he knew he had gone way too far, he had no idea what made him say things like that, he was just so angry at her, she had called him a prat!.'

Ron looked up at Hermione's hurt face, tears beginning to run down her cheeks and felt absolutely horrible "How can I be such a bloody git? What is wrong with me, why do I have to go around completely insulting the girl I…"

Ron was suddenly snapped back to reality as Hermione grabbed the table and violently pushed it over in Ron's direction. All of her carefully written charm notes fluttered around Ron's legs and he had to dodge an inkwell as it fell and shattered, staining the bottom of his robes and pants.

Hermione gave Ron one last ice-cold look, glaring at him past her tears with a fierce determination. The she suddenly spun around and ran from the common room up to the dormitories.

Left in her wake, still standing in the midst of the spilt ink and papers Ron felt tears come to his own eyes. 'I've really done it now, haven't I? What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He liked Hermione, really liked her! However much he wanted to deny that he had fallen for his best friend, he couldn't any more. But somehow every time they seemed to be getting on well, Ron managed to get it all messed up. But never had he screwed it up this bad. Had he actually called her a bitch? He had ruined everything for what, a bloody chess game with bloody Seamus?

His thoughts swirled around in his head not seeming to make any sense. He dazedly walked through the common room heading to the boys dormitories. As he passed Seamus he heard him and Dean chuckling.

"What a fight! I think you may have won though mate." Piped Seamus from behind him.

"Think that was funny do you? Think Hermione bloody crying was funny? Ron turned and slammed his fist into the chessboard causing all the little knights, pawns, bishops, queens, and kings, to fly about the table. One bishop flew off the board with such force that it hit Dean in the eye.

"What's wrong mate, she'll get over it." Dean said as he rubbed his eye.

'I made her cry, that's what's wrong!' Ron thought as he turned and stormed up the stairs.


	2. Potion Notes

**Potion Notes**

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Just a quick note on the first chapter; I wrote the chapter while on a class trip in a little tent and anyway it filled up pages and pages of journal paper but when I typed it up it wasn't very long, so this chapter will be a bit longer if I can manage it. By the way this story takes place in 5th or 6th year, doesn't really matter.**

The moment Ron reached the boy's dormitories after stomping violently up the stairs away from Dean, Seamus, and the scattered chess pieces, he threw himself on his bed in complete sadness and intense anger. Lying face down on his quilt Ron reached upwards, grasped a pillow and flung it aimlessly; but with quite a bit of pent-up force across the room. He heard the pillow collide with what sounded like a book-bag and then there was a loud thud and the sound of escaping quills and parchment rolling and rustling about the floor. This was oddly very satisfying for Ron, who still couldn't seem to make coherent thoughts.

'Why am I such a…?'

'Well she _did…'_

'But, why did I have to…?'

'Oh, and then she…'

'Still I didn't really…'

'All my fault and…'

'Then Seamus and Dean…'

'She was actually…'

'Oh just bugger it!'

Ron felt a piece of parchment caress his hand; which was dangling off of the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows and snatched the parchment from the floor. He grabbed it so vigorously a corner ripped off in his hand. He opened his fist and read the name "Seamus Finnegan" and the title "Potions; January 9" scrawled carelessly across the top. Ron was very pleased indeed to discover that it was Seamus' book bag he had hit with the pillow. It wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying if it had been Harry's or Neville's. But Seamus, now that was someone whose book bag deserved to be hit very severely with a pillow and the contents to be sprawled all over the floor. Ron thought rather wickedly of all the things that deserved to happen to Seamus and his possessions as he slowly ripped Seamus' Potion notes into miniscule pieces of parchment.

After a quite long time of listing numerous ways of either vandalizing Seamus' things or cursing him into oblivion his mind began to rationalize.

'Okay… I know it wasn't his fault for the chess bit; It wasn't as if he had me under the Cruciatus; physically making me unable to study and forcing me to play wizards chess with him.'

'But it _had _been his suggestion, and they could have played another time, if only he hadn't insisted we play chess just then…'

'Oh. Right. He didn't insist on anything did he? That was all me wasn't it? Hadn't he actually mumbled something about playing some time else?'

Ron's thoughts wound around in hopeless circle in his head. Part of him vehemently tried to blame everything worldly possible on Seamus while the other part, the more reasonable part, pointed out that Seamus hadn't done anything at all to warrant the blame.

Very deep down he knew he was irrationally pinning all the blame on Seamus because it was far easier to blame him than to put the blame where it really belonged: On himself. After all, it was he, himself who had called Hermione those hideous things, who had made her feel like he would rather be with his other friends than with her, and worst of all: who had made her cry. Ron shook his head furiously. Attempting to banish the guilt away. He wasn't ready to think about Hermione's tear stained face. It was too hurtful to imagine that he, Ron Weasley, had managed to screw everything up and push Hermione away again. He had made her cry, the very thought of it made him want to cry.

No, he couldn't think of that yet. Not until he could some how think up some way to apologize, to make it up to her, to be her friend again. But until then it was far easier to shove the image of Hermione's anger and tears as far away as he could and keep on beginning every thought in his head with 'That bloody prat Seamus, he…'

Sighing, Ron returned to slowly and methodically shredding Seamus' Potion notes into ever diminishing pieces.

Ginny realized something had happened as soon as she stepped into the common room. For one, there was a table turned over in the middle of the room, quills and parchment were strewn everywhere in a ten foot radius. There was also a large ink stains on the table, chairs and carpet. It looked as if a small bomb had gone off, either that or Peeves had been through here, she chuckled to herself guessing it was the latter. The second thing she observed was that almost all of the people in the common room were gathered somewhat around the table murmuring excitedly. As she walked over she heard snippets of various people's conversations.

"What was it about anyway?" Pavarti muttered.

"Just chess or some rubbish you know how they are" Lavender replied.

"Who do you reckon won?" inquired a second year girl to her friends.

"I think she did, remember that look she gave him, and the table, that was brilliant!"

"Yeah, but did you _hear_ what he called her! That was harsh!"

"But she was doing so well, until she started crying that is"

"I would cry to if the boy I secretly liked called me a bitch too!" piped in Lavender from behind the second years.

This comment set the second years into giggling while Pavarti remarked to Lavender "It is so obvious that they really like each other, I mean look how many fights they have!"

With a sinking feeling Ginny was now quite sure what had happened. Ron and Hermione fighting again. Oh Dear. As if to confirm her fears a piece of parchment crinkled at her feet and she saw Hermione's tight neat handwriting all splattered with black ink. This reminded Ginny of what the girls had just said.

'He called her a bitch!' This thought registered with Ginny and she became suddenly furiously with her brother, he could be so insolent sometimes!

'How the hell could Ron keep dodging around his feelings and get so mixed up that he ended up getting in fights with her?'

'This time he had gone more than a little too far!' thought Ginny angrily. 'How dare he treat her like that!' Ginny had sat through far more fights than she should have, she had always quietly nudged them into apologizing, each time believing they would finally get over whatever was barring them from being together. But every time something like this happened and Ginny was not going to take it anymore.

Then suddenly, another part of the girl's gossip drifted back to her. 'She was crying'

With a gasp Ginny realized in her rage against her brother she had completely forgotten about Hermione. She rushed through the people and made her way up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. All the while thinking 'How horrible! Poor Hermione, being called a bitch by the one boy she may be very close to being in love with.'

Ginny reached the door to Hermione's dormitory out of breath from running up the stairs. She took a second to breathe; then knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer Ginny pushed the door open a few inches and tentatively said

"Hermione, it's Ginny."

When there was again silence she asked, "Can I come in?"

After a few seconds it became clear she wouldn't get an answer so Ginny slowly opened the door the rest of the way. What she saw was alarming even compared to the scene downstairs. Ginny paused in the doorway trying to take it all in. There were lavender pages all strewn all over the room, hundreds of them, everywhere. Some were crumpled up into tight balls, some were shredded apart; most were just lying pathetically all over the floor. They were on the tops of the four posters, balancing on desks and trunks, a few looked like they were about to fall out of the window, they were sitting so precariously on the sill. With a jolt, Ginny remembered where the she had seen the lavender pages before: in Hermione's diary. And sure enough lying in front of her was the crippled remnant of the diary's spine. It looked as if it had been hit against the wall several times and then thrown across the room.

After Ginny got past the shock of the pages, she noticed other things. The drawers of Hermione's desk were torn out and letters, pictures, and what looked like the perfume Ron had given her were on the floor. All looked as if they had been stomped on numerous times.

Perhaps most alarming to Ginny was Hermione's book bag which had been dumped on the floor, her books lying carelessly about. In general this was a common sight, but for other people, not Hermione. Never Hermione. Hermione had such respect for her studies that her books were always tidy and her notes carefully filed and quills put in their right places. The crinkled Potion notes protruding in a messy heap from the book bag were as bad an omen to Hermione's condition as anything could be. Ginny knew that for her to leave her things like that, Hermione must more upset than even Ginny could have feared.

Ginny walked cautiously to Hermione's four-poster bed. As she drew the curtains apart and looked upon Hermione's form, curled up and shaking under her blankets, her face and hair wet from countless tears, there was one pounding thought in her head.

'How could Ron do this?'

**A/N: I know Ron seems a bit much with the Seamus, but he is just taking all of his guilt and anger out the easiest way he can. Also, if you think Hermione is too upset, remember that she loves him and he just insulted her the worst way he could have.**

**Please keep reviewing, thanks!**


	3. Arithmancy Notes

Author Notes: Once again please review! I realized I forgot a disclaimer so here it is.

DISCLAIMER:I do not own any of the following: Wizards Chess, Seamus Finnegan, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or anything else remotely Potter-Esque. JK Rolling owns every bit of it!

**Arithmancy Notes**

Hermione opened her eyes. She brushed her hands against her face, which was bathed in moonlight coming in from a gap in her bed hangings. Ginny had tried to wash her face, but Hermione could still feel the sticky film where the tears had poured down her cheeks. This made her think of crying which in turn made her think of Him. She quickly set her hands down on her stomach. Hermione sat up, leaning against the headboard. She peered through the gap that the moonlight shone through. Through this gap she could see Pavarti sound asleep. Hermione crept over her covers and out through the gap. Their dormitory was spotless; Ginny had made sure of that.

Ginny had sat by Hermione while she cried. Her arms wrapped around Hermione as she shook. Hermione had slowly calmed enough to lie stil and sleep, only single tears making long journeys down her face and neck. Ginny had left then and fetched Lavender and Pavarti away from their giggling in the common room. Ginny with her fierce command and loyalty to Hermione had made the girls clean the room. They made such a ruckus at first that Hermione woke, she didn't cry, she had done enough of that, but just listened. There were sounds of rustling papers, spells being performed, drawers being opened and shut, and whispered inquirers, those Ginny hushed quickly. Hermione could remember only the beginnings of their questions because Ginny was quick to quiet them, as if she knew Hermione might be awake. But still their words rang in her head like ever-present bells, almost as much as His words.

Is she going to-?

Do you think they are-?

Did she talk about-?

Was she really-?

Will she…

Will I what? Hermione almost wanted to ask. Will I ever forgive him? Will I be all right? Will I get over it? Will I die of shame? Hermione couldn't answer those questions, she, herself didn't even know the answers.

Hermione walked passed by the sleeping girls to the window and looked out across the grounds. She looked at the sky, dark as night could be, except for the strong light of the moon. It was that deep time of night, where nothing stirred and no one moved, where even the wind was still and no owls hooted. Her head throbbed from crying and she felt empty, hollow inside, as if there was nothing left of her to give. Her emotions were jostling for position in her head. They had been all the time since the fight with Him.

First it was anger. The memories flashed before her: shoving the table over, storming up the stairs, ripping apart her diary as if it were some evil being. Her anger flamed up from somewhere deep inside her, and it heated her with fiery strength. With magic and sheer desire she destroyed every piece of herself that somehow was tied to Him. The tears cried then were fast and hot, dancing across her face and onto the floor, her clothes, or His letters.

Then came the sadness. It snuck up on her like something from the shadows and somehow suddenly over-whelmed her. She was stricken as if everything had suddenly come down on her at once. By the time she hit her bed she was sobbing, tears carousing down her cheeks and soaking all around her. All of her strength was gone. It was as if something had snapped in her, and she could not push it away. She was alone. Even when Ginny was by her side, it was only her, her and His ghost.

Now the anger was still there, just subdued with time, the sadness was certainly there too, it was now all around her, not so concentrated, but there was a new emotion in her. She felt shame, and embarrassment. Her heart told her she had a right to cry, to scream, to wreck things; but her head, her cold, strait-forward, logical head, told her she should not be this way.

'Its not the first fight you've had.'

'It was the worst.'

'You said rude things as well.'

'I didn't mean them.'

'Did he?'

'His eyes were so raw with emotion that he must have.'

'What emotion'

'Does it matter?'

'Did you have to react that way? The crying, wrecking, sadness?'

'Yes… It was him.'

In endless loops her mind battled, but she knew it didn't matter in the end. It didn't change the fact that she still couldn't bring herself to say his name. Looking up at the moon a few more tears escaped her eyes. Suddenly Hermione turned away and walked to her desk. Ginny had neatened her things as best she could. Hermione, her back to the window, resolved to end the shame, the anger and the sadness she couldn't do anything about, but she could keep herself from being embarrassed by Him. She slowly sat down, and took one last fleeting glance at the moonlight shining down on the grounds. Turning back to the desk, she lit a candle. With determination she searched through her books until she found her Arithmancy notes and began studying.

There were no longer tears in her eyes; but the pain remained.

In another dormitory a boy lay awake, the same moonlight that had shone on her face, shone on him. With one glistening stream tracing a line down his face, he knew his tears were just beginning.

A/N: Sorry that was so short! The next one will be longer and not as sad hopefully! Please Review! I know they both seem a little over-emotional, but their hearts are breaking! Thanks for reading.

'


	4. Quick Notes

A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry it was such a long wait; I was stuck without internet access for a while. I tried to put some humor back in this one, please tell me if I succeeded.

Disclaimer: I do own some things; but the Harry Potter series is really, really not one of them!

The next morning was a quiet one. That is, until the screaming began. It started just as the few early risers of Hogwarts were stirring and rising out of their beds in their respective dormitories. The sun had not quite rose over the mountains and the sky had the hazy blue-white color of pre-dawn. All was silent until the sudden shrieks broke the calm. The noise reverberated off the stone walls and soon could be heard all throughout the Gryffindor boy's dormitories.

As can be expected, very loud high-pitched screaming is not welcome at such an early time of day. Being jarred from sleep a full half hour early than needed did not sit well with the boys. While some just groaned and buried their heads under their pillows others had more drastic reactions. Most of the first years, still unaccustomed to Hogwarts, found the sound very alarming and leapt from bed as if they had been sleeping on hot coals. A few of the younger muggle-born students thought the noise was some kind of queer shrill fire drill and wondered frantically if Hogwarts could have caught fire. A dim boy in third year seemed to think that the sound was coming from inside his own dormitory and proceeded to throw heavy objects from his bedside table into each of his year-mates beds. Needless to say, they were not pleased.

The most common reaction was for a boy to poke his head out into the stairs and call "What in the hell is the bloody ruckus?" or something similar. Many were not able to be as articulate this early in the morning and many cries of "Piss off!" and quite a few angry curses were heard. All of the boy's voices showed equal parts drowsiness and agitation, which is a fair mixture as loud screaming had just rudely awakened them.

But no one's reaction was as frantic as of the boys in the sixth year dormitory. This was, of course, because it was their dormitory that the screaming was originating from. They had obviously been the first to hear the noise and within seconds three heads had popped out of the curtains of three beds. They instantly realized what, or who rather, was the cause of the ruckus.

It was Neville Longbottom.

He was thrashing about his bed, emitting loud screeches and seemed to be in quite a lot of anguish. Somehow he had managed to rip one side of his bed curtain off and was now rolling about in it with increasing desperation.

This sight of Neville sent the three boys into immediate action. They flung themselves from their beds and were at Neville's bedside in an instant. Dean grabbed his legs, Seamus his arms, and Harry tried to untangle him from the curtain. While they struggled with the flailing Neville they tried desperately to scream above the din that Neville was making.

"What in the hell has come over him?" yelled Harry.

"Haven't the faintest! Think he's being tortured?" replied Dean.

"By who? His bed post?" Seamus yelled sarcastically.

"Well I don't bloody well kn-"

Just then Neville's leg escaped from Dean's grip and created a bit of a scuffle as it shot up, knocked Harry's glasses off and proceeded to kick Seamus in the jaw.

"Watch out there!"

"Almost had it!"

"C'mon, get the bugger!"

Neville's leg made a few very valiant attempts to escape Dean until it was finally captured once again. Now that Neville was under a minimal control, Harry tried to wake him up. Screaming and slapping his face seemed to do no good, as that just seemed to rile up Neville's limbs even more. Finally, with the desperation of someone who has been whacked repeatedly in the face, Harry made a desperate run for the jug of water kept on the bureau by the door. He returned and quickly dumped the water on the yelling face of Neville. Neville had been in mid-scream when the water was poured; so much of it had been deposited into his mouth. Neville sputtered up the water in a violent manner but his legs stopped their writhing and his eyes popped open.

Neville sat up unexpectedly and immediately started speaking excitedly. "Oh you wouldn't believe the nightmare I've just had! It was awful!"

"What about the nightmare we've just had!" Dean said with anger.

Neville continued on, apparently not hearing Dean.

"It was Rita Skeeter and she had that awful Quick-Notes Quill, you know the one Harry! Anyway at first it was okay because I had done something heroic and she was having an interview with me. But then the quill, it kept getting bigger and bigger and suddenly it was chasing me 'round Hogwarts and Rita Skeeter was in the background cackling like some mad women! I tried to fend the quill off by kicking it you know! But it was really out to get me! I swear that quick notes quill…"

Dean, Seamus, and Harry glared at Neville with open mouths.

"Do you mean to say, that we just wrestled with your thrashing legs and arms because you were having a bad dream about Rita Skeeter?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah, The way you were flailing about we thought you were being tortured by a deatheater or something! You should have heard the noise you were making, you've probably woke the whole of Hogwarts up!" exclaimed Dean.

Seamus just mumbled "Only Neville…." as he rolled back into his own bed.

Harry was making his way back to his bed, when he suddenly realized something.

He made a quick de-tour and headed for Ron's bed instead. "Oi, Ron! Why didn't you come help us; we really could've used y-" he trailed off suddenly when he remembered what had happened last night. Harry hadn't been in the common room when it happened, but Ginny had told him all that had occurred, and what a state Hermione had been in. He had felt bad for both of them and had kept out of Ron's way the night before; which wasn't hard considering Ron stayed in his bead with the curtains closed all night.

Harry drew open the curtain of Ron's four-poster slowly. Ron was not asleep; it would have been impossible to sleep through Neville's wails. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He looked a little lost, as if something of his was missing and he wasn't quite sure where to look for it. Harry noticed with a shock that his eyes were bloodshot and looked very much as if he had been crying. Harry had only seen Ron cry a few times in the past, one of which being the time in second year when Hermione was in the Hospital wing.

Harry was trying to think of something to say to Ron when Seamus let out a yell.

"So that's why I couldn't find my notes last night; they're all bloody ripped up!"

Seamus was standing near Ron's bed looking furious. He gestured at the floor where there was a large scattering of tiny pieces of ripped paper.

"Did you do this Ron? It's not my fault that you go-" Seamus was cut off by Harry who could tell that Ron was in no shape to argue with him. "Lay off him, here I'll fix it."

Harry cast a repairing charm and the small pieces quickly came together to form a few pages of notes.

"Thanks," Seamus mumbled casting a last angry look at Ron.

Ron's expression had not changed at all. As the boys got dressed and gathered their things, Ron was strangely silent and distant. He seemed to be in his own sort of place, neither quite here nor there. This upset Harry. Ron and Hermione had fights all the time, but Ron had never acted in this way before. He would usually be grumbling about Hermione in undertones, and Harry could catch things such as "Thinks she knows bloody everything!" and "That damn Vicky!" Harry had known that Ron had some sort of feelings for Hermione for some time, and it was hard to have to watch him be fighting with her. But nothing in the past had compared to this. He wasn't sure what to do this time; usually he and Ginny goaded them both into apologizing and they would be on good terms fairly soon. But Harry could tell that there was nothing Ginny or him could do this time, it was much deeper than that. Something had been broken between them and by the look of Ron; he was a bit broken as well.

A/N I've just realized that this is going at an excruciatingly slow pace; there has been 4 chapters over about 10 hours. Oh Well. I know there wasn't much of Ron and Hermione but I thought it had gotten too gloomy and emotional. Next chapter will be up very soon.


	5. Missing Notes

**A/N: I am so, so, so, sorry it took so long! Here it is! **

For Ron, the memories of that morning are a blur. As if they occurred in a long ago dream, or perhaps they were the memories of someone else, told to him in a story. He remembers a very loud noise very early in the morning, he remembers Harry's face when he drew open the bed curtains and saw he had been crying, and he remembers Harry's choked expression as he tried to find the right words to say. But these memories are clouded, obscured in an odd way that Ron cannot explain.

Later, he would think about that morning and be ashamed, embarrassed that Harry had seen him so vulnerable. But at the time he didn't care much about anything outside of the guilt and sadness tumbling about in his mind. He didn't care, or even register the goings-on around him, Harry's expression, Seamus angry yelling and dirty looks, and Neville's excited jabbering was all like ships passing in the night to him. He was too much inside himself; he was not really there at all really. His body was there, on his bed, curled up helplessly, like a child, but his mind was still stuck in the common room last night. He replayed the scene over and over again, the shouting, the table crashing over, and the look in her eyes. A look of the deepest sadness, and hurt he could fathom and it was all because of him. Him. Ron Weasley. The one boy who more than anything wanted to see her eyes smiling, and would probably want to kill someone who had put such pain in her eyes. The memories of last night were crystal clear to him although the present was much more hazy.

Each time he remembered the night before, his emotions would surge forward again, like a great tide. Every time the guilt would compound upon itself growing greater by the moment. The tears, which he could no longer suppress with anger, would leap to his eyes again and it was all he could do to hold them back.

A small part of him thought this was all very, very wrong.

'Merlin, I'm a boy, a man. I'm fifteen bloody years old, what the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn't be crying; I shouldn't be lying here like a complete prat! I shouldn't care about it, her, any of this!'

He pleaded with himself, trying to make the irrational way he was acting stop. But he knew he did care, and he knew why. It was her, Hermione. Just saying her name in his head made his heart raw with emotion. Then Ron could see her eyes, her clear eyes clouded with sadness, and he could tell that no amount of reasoning would stop those eyes from haunting him.

It may seem, the boys around him might notice this torrent of emotion coming from Ron. But of course, boys are boys, and besides being un-empathetic, they were also too caught up in their own doings to bother about Ron. Seamus was still grumbling about his potion notes, Neville was still shouting excitedly about Rita Skeeter and her quill, and Dean was desperately trying to convince Neville that an enormous quill was not prowling the corridors of Hogwarts, hunting for him. Harry, being Ron's best mate was the only one who could see the pain behind Ron's eyes. But Harry was so startled to see Ron in this state that he hadn't the faintest clue how to go about helping him. Did he console? Did he hug? Did he say everything would be all right? All of these things seemed extremely inappropriate, even silly to Harry. In Ron's fuzzy opinion he did the best thing he could have done. He had shouted at Seamus, given Ron a brief look of understanding, and then left him alone. Harry could see Ron was nowhere near being able to talk about it.

At long last, the rational side of Ron took over, if only for a moment, and he realized that he had to go to class. This filled him with an indescribable amount of dread. Not because he hadn't studied for his transfiguration test, and he hadn't finished his rubbish predictions for Trewnaly, but because of Hermione. He could hardly bare to think about her, how was he going to face her? He tried his hardest to shove the thought out of his head and in a daze; he left his bed and prepared for class.

In another dormitory, Hermione was scribbling. She had just gotten out of the shower when she realized she had forgotten to put the finishing touches on an Ancient Runes essay, what she had failed to take into account was that the essay wasn't due for another three weeks.

The previous night she had completed a Potions, a Transfiguration, and a History of Magic essay, she had 'polished up' four more papers, and had made decent headway into studying for a few exams. All of this schoolwork was not due for many weeks; the exams did not even have dates set yet.

But as Hermione worked through the night at the essays she knew something was very wrong. It was certainly not the essays; she had put so much effort into them, trying to ignore what was wrong, that they couldn't be anything less than perfect. In fact, with the determination of trying not to think about what was wrong they had turned out to be some of her best work.

But it was more than a little thing bothering her; it was everything, it was Him.

Him. Ron Weasley. Ron, Ron, Ron!

She couldn't block him out any longer. It was like battling a raging fire with a teaspoon of water. The fact that she couldn't block him out hurt almost as much as her fight with him had. She had been so determined to be indifferent, unfeeling. She wanted to ignore him more than anything; it was so much easier. Usually she could block out everything by studying. But with Ron it was impossible. He was just too insufferable, incorrigible, irresistible, everything!

She set her head down wearily on the papers on her desk. She didn't cry; even if she couldn't keep her emotions from herself she could at least keep other people from thinking she a blathering idiot.

Hermione heard someone walk over to her and she looked up. Ginny was standing over her and setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Really Ginny…I-" But she couldn't seem to get beyond that. Ginny didn't say anything; she just picked up Hermione's papers and put them in her bag. She then set the bag by Hermione's feet.

"If you like, I can fetch you breakfast, and you can come down later."

"No Really, Ginny, I…I have to be, I have to, I can't just…"

Ginny opened her mouth again but was cut of by a loud shriek from Lavender.

"Padma!" She stretched out the MA out for a few seconds to seemingly emphasize her annoyance.

"Yes what, Lav?"

"My good blouse is all wrinkly, you didn't wear it did you?" The way she said this made one quite sure that Lavender already knew the answer.

"Well yes, I borrowed it two days ago when I was meeting Dean by the lake."

Ginny tried again to say something but was cut off again.

"You really could have asked me!"

"Actually I did."

"No, you never asked me!"

"Yes I did, I left you a note, you are really dense, do you know that?"

"What note? I think I'm _just_ smart enough to see there is no note here!" She waved her hands around wildly.

"Well you're very keen aren't you? You've obviously just gone and-"

At this point it seemed they were about to go to blows and Ginny quickly grabbed her bag, grabbed Hermione's hand and steered her out of the door.

"Thanks" said Hermione feebly.

"That was really sickening, that was." Replied Ginny.

Hermione gave a very weak sort of smile and they headed down the stairs.

As Ron walked down the stairs caught in a mixture of bleariness and sadness he did not know that on the opposite stairwell, Hermione was doing the same. That is, until he reached the bottom and looked around the common room.

Their eyes met.

**A/N: Hmmm, not very happy with this chapter, they seem all wrong, oh well. Please Review if you enjoyed reading.**


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